


Ain't winning no one over, I wear it just for you...

by by_no_one_more_than_me (Lady_Cleo)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, POV Original Character, Possessive!Hannibal, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Rated for Language and Naughty Thoughts, Reluctant Will Graham, rated for language, they really love each other though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-03 14:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Cleo/pseuds/by_no_one_more_than_me
Summary: Hannibal wants Will to have a tattoo so everyone - including Will - knows exactly to whom he belongs.





	Ain't winning no one over, I wear it just for you...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pensee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensee/gifts).

> For Pensee, who inspired this.
> 
> A note before we start. This is post-fall but also canon-divergent, since Will does have the face injury from fighting Dolarhyde but they're not really hiding like they probably would be.

A Gogol Bordello song was just wrapping up when they walked into my parlor about an hour before closing.

I was **not** prepared.

Several parts of my anatomy perked up at the delicious sight of scruff and flannel and huge stormy blue eyes, dark tousled curls practically begging my fingers to slide into them and a mouth that kept pulling my focus because he wouldn't stop biting his goddamned lower lip. Neat white teeth just sinking in over and over, trapping the flesh and rolling it against his lower set and leaving my mind swirling in a fog of naughty fantasy.

A throat cleared to his left and the nibbling puppy was momentarily forgotten as two pairs of eyes swung over. _Oof. Daddy'__s home._ Taller, though admittedly it was more attitude than any appreciable height difference; older, which was working for me in all sorts of ways. Metallic strands my fingers itched to run through, a thoroughly fascinating face, eyes radiating with intelligence in a color I couldn't immediately classify - and part of my work on a daily basis was knowing my viridian from my vermillion.

Then he spoke.

"I hope we are not too late for an initial consultation."

Sweet merciful God. That voice, quiet authority and a subtle accent making velvet love to my ears, the way his mouth shaped around the words, and holy fuck were those fangs?? If the building burst into flames in the next 5 minutes, I wouldn't have been able to move for fear my legs wouldn't hold me up... but at least all trace of the sneaking dampness I felt between my thighs would've been erased.

A mere suggestion of eyebrow arched up and oh right I was supposed to say... something. Forcibly elbowing my impulsive horny side back into her cage and slamming the bolt down, I took a very deep breath and got a bloody grip._ Work time now, wank time later._

"No, not at all. We're still open." With a professional smile I pulled out of nowhere I stood and walked over, extending a hand as I did so. "I'm Ivy."

Fuckable in Flannel took it first, a wry twist to those kissable lips as his eyes slid to Daddy, letting him take the task of introducing them as my hand transferred from warm and calloused to a live wire that left my nerves tingling from the contact.

"Ah, _araliaceae hedera_. My favourite vine, though you are certainly in a league by yourself. Thank you, Ms. Ivy. I am Lucas, and this is my... husband. David."

_Tsk. Liar liar, burn me up with desire. _Weirdly enough, I didn't care about them lying straight to my face - despite my preference for sins of omission. Still, there wasn't a doubt they were together, and I'd learned when it came to ink, the names on your body tended to matter more than the ones on your birth certificate.

"S'nice to meet you." Gesturing for them to have a seat on the other side of my work table, I was only a little surprised Daddy Dearest didn't pull out a handkerchief and some hand sanitizer to wipe the chair down. Then again, I held my team to exceptional standards and the past 45 minutes had been spent cleaning and sterilizing in advance of my closing up, and my station always got first love. "So..." I began, tugging a black ringtop sketchpad tattooed in silver ink and the Mont Blanc Meisterstück Classique I kept for special projects from the drawer and flipping it to a fresh page - not quite missing the flicker of appreciative recognition that flashed across Daddy's face like heat lightning. Oh goody, he was curious now. "What did we have in mind?"

They shared a look I'd only seen in films. Scruff scratched awkwardly at his cheek as the contact broke and offered a quarter smile in my direction.

"Well... it's gonna be for... me. We, uh... I mean, we had a few ideas but nothing really... concrete, y'know? We were hoping you could... maybe help with that."

Translation: Daddy had something very particular in mind for his dearly beloved and Scruff wasn't sure he liked it enough to permanently stamp it on his skin.

"Sure. Normally, I'd run through some basic questions, try to get a baseline to build off of, but I can use your ideas as a jumping off point. Just so we're all starting from the same page."

A few minutes of back and forth as I sifted through the stilted sharing of ideas and half-baked concepts like a forensic analyst and a rough outline began taking shape on the virgin page, ink flowing along imaginary lines, careful pressure keeping it from bleeding out into a hopeless mess. Another 5 minutes and I turned the book around, showing off what I had. "It's not done yet, obviously, but maybe something in this vein?"

Gazes ricocheted from art to artist to each other, having some silent conversation.

It was Scruffy that finally spoke. "I... well, I mean it's _close_. It's just... not quite... Not that you're not very talented. I know we're probably not the easiest clients you've had today." The apologetic timbre and a subtle neck-baring tilt of his head almost had me scratching him behind the ears and reminding him he was a good boy.

"Wi-" I'd never seen eyes go that wide that fast outside of the anime I watched on Friday nights. White was visible clean around two sets of irises that bounced from each other to me and back like frightened sparrows. _Interesting... _"_What _my husband means is.... perhaps something more like...." Daddy produced a black side-bound notebook, a high quality sketchpad not dissimilar to mine, and began flipping pages. I caught flashes of hands, wrists, torsos, sinew and sweat and bodies, heads at unnatural angles and crowns of flowers. Writing that might have been words, though probably none in English. Implications of color (blood red, violet blue) despite the monochromatic palette. All beautifully rendered in the deceptive simplicity of charcoal, matching the pencil he pulled from a case in a hidden pocket and began applying to a clean page after folding the rest of the book under for stability.

Something about the way his hands moved, the way he seemed to see not just a body but structures under the skin, the systems within... all screamed **surgeon** to me. It was both a blessing and a curse since my youth that I could always see past the outer layers to what lay beneath, never shocked that a biker who was more leather than skin requested the Muppet Babies on his calf or that a Methodist pastor wanted a bloodied cross wreathed in flaming vines on his chest or that a kindergarten teacher who'd taught both my nieces was getting a skull eating out a pinup girl.

No matter how much was going unsaid right now, these two shared a deep wellspring of love wrapped in a beautiful darkness that made me feel like crying.

In other news, the guy had **serious** artistic skill and a good knowledge of anatomy. If he took maybe a week or two to practice appropriate penetration depth on a pig, he could definitely do his darling himself. I'd have sold a vital organ (up to and including one of my own) just to have a ringside seat to him tattooing in 2/3 of that three piece suit, shirtsleeves rolled up over toned forearms dusted with silver hair, the kiss of latex gloves and the bite of the needle like fetish porn.

God, I needed to get laid.

"Ah. Something like this." Oh right. He'd been sketching something particular while I was lost in my own headspace. He turned the page to face me and my breath snagged in my throat like a strand of razor wire.

My voice was muted in reverence, husky to my own ears as though I'd been deepthroating. "Wow. It's... _beautiful_." And it was. I wanted it as a print for my wall, laser-etched deep under my skin or inked over the muscle pumping blood sluggish with lust throughout my body.

"Of course, if such a large piece would be too much, we could always go with a word. Something simple, a bit of embellishment. I would be happy to help stencil the appropriate calligraphy."

"For the last time, I'm not getting your name on my knuckles." Daddy's mouth opened and Sexy McSassypants immediately held up a finger. "Or my wrist. Inside or out." Daddy did not look pleased and Scruff hunched in on himself, muttering "My watch would hide it anyway. Defeats the point" under his breath.

"We've discussed this. It needn't be my name."

"Well I don't want 'mine' or something in some bizarro foreign language on my forearm."

A slow inhale flared Daddy's nostrils out a bit as a muscle ticked above his jaw. "Very well. Across your beautifully sculpted shoulders then."

Muscles moved under flannel as Sassy Scruff crossed his arms over his chest, as much a self-comforting gesture as a petulant posture. "It's November. In Toronto."

"True. But with proper healing time, you could be 'flaunting' your ink most comfortably by the spring." Something about air quotes in a voice like that made tiny cheerleaders wake up and start doing complex choreography with my whimpering ovaries.

"I'm not going to classes or crime scenes without a shirt on. Try again."

"What would you suggest then?"

"Oh my God," he huffed, the conciliatory tone on offer doing nothing to placate and everything to provoke. "Why don't I just get 'Property of' stamped across my forehead so I match your stationery? How about _that?_" He pushed off the stool and walked a short distance away, arms tightening around himself as he paced.

A beat later Daddy followed, features softening from granite to wood - stark perfection yielding to soft natural warmth. Stopping in Scruff's path he allowed a long look of beholden affection to fill the little space, papering over the crack threatening to form an impassible crevasse. 

"I am afraid I love the lines of your face too much to amend them permanently." My heart and thighs squeezed with simultaneous tightness at the dark chocolate sentiment, even as the two of us began to peel back the obfuscating layers the younger man was wrapping himself like a blanket fort. Daddy's eyes flicked to me and I forced my gaze back to the page before me, incorporating details from the upside-down image that lay abandoned as the older man took the younger's face in his hands with enviable gentleness. His voice dropped, probably enough that most people wouldn't have been able to hear what came next. "Darling, what's wrong?"

"I..." He sighed, seemingly accepting that he wasn't going to be able to squirm out of this. "Look, I know I said I'd go along with this - though I'm still not sure why you didn't just agree to go with my collar idea."

My mind scratched to a halt like a record sound effect in a movie and there was now a heavy black line on my sketch pad that went down 4 pages. **Fuck.**

"We could even put a tag with your contact information on it. In case I get lost." Something in his playful tone flipped a switch in my rebooting brain and I risked a sidelong glance that turned into a full look of concern at the unmistakable sheen of tears in those beautiful eyes. There was a flicker of distress, practically a microexpression though inescapable to the notice of people watching as closely as we two, before his head bowed - as though it were something shameful. As though he'd done something wrong.

As though he didn't really want this.

Maybe the idea of a permanent mark worked better in theory, or maybe the stamp of ownership he would've preferred ran more to visible love bites peeking over the collars of his shirts, but he seemed way less enthusiastic than his partner about this.

I was half off my stool, the urge to comfort him drawing me over the way the moon pulled the tides, before my attention slid to the room's other occupant. Stepping in the space between heartbeats he gathered the other man close, nuzzling his temple before shushing him with a kiss. Then those impossibly lovely hands held his lover's face again and tipped it up to meet his unrelentingly sweet gaze with a tenderness that made my heart kick.

"My darling. If you truly do not wish for this, I need you to tell me. Please. I want you never to be unhappy or distressed. I simply... want everyone - unequivocally - to know to whom you belong." _Including you _went unsaid but no less understood by all sentient beings in the room. Even the flash on the walls seemed to look away from the scene.

A lingering thread of misery wound through his pleading whisper. "You know. And _I _know. Can't that be enough?"

_Like we're the only ones that matter. It would be for me._

Hell, it would have been enough for me too.

And then a single perfect tear spilled out of the younger man's left eye and trickled down his cheek, catching in the edge of a scar rendered nearly invisible by his neat facial hair. A shimmering diamond highlighting an imperfection that merely enhanced the beauty of its source.

The older man's finger collected the drop on its tip with an unexpected delicacy and held it up, peering down into the crystalline sphere like someone telling fortunes. His eyes flicked to mine with the speed of a switchblade, and I felt threads of molten glass dripping honey-smooth to pool and coil in the pit of my stomach. Without breaking the contact, he quirked the corners of those distracting lips into a satisfied smirk and ate the tear.

_Fuck. Me. Up._

A tiny whimper escaped his 'David' as Daddy pressed in close once more, feeding his obvious lover his own sorrow, now sweetened with love. Hands that only trembled a little grasped the other man's wrists, pulling him imperceptibly closer as I averted my human eyes from the indivisible divinity taking place on my shop floor.

Eventually the need for unrecycled oxygen broke the kiss, even as Daddy peppered little adorations all over Scruff's smoothed out features between breaths of sentiment.

"It is. Of course it is. The fact of us is enough. _You_ are enough. I merely thought..."

"It would make you happy." It could have been a statement, or the completion of the other man's thought. But it wasn't a question, and somehow we all realized it was the answer. They sat down in sync, pressed together in a line from their shoulders to their shoes and I flipped to a new page representative of the fresh start.

Over the next 30 minutes we hammered out minutiae of a couple's piece, an image pair to mirror and complement, smiles flying as fast as suggestions across the workspace and my pen over the paper. Finally satisfied I set down my tools and stretched my arms over my head with a stifled groan, feeling each vertebrae as it shifted back into line before I headed to the front counter.

"Alright, I think we got it. Why don't you come by..." I offered Daddy a card with an appointment scribbled in my signature purple ink, and for the first time I noticed it matched the accents in his paisley tie to perfection. "And we can set up a schedule, get the preliminary outlines done."

Fingers in a comforting tangle, their eyes never left each other as they answered in intimate stereo. "We're looking forward to it."

With that they were gone, swallowed by the night. As I moved around the shop locking up, I couldn't seem to keep the smile off my face.

My week just got a whole lot more.... interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so that was the thing. Hope you liked it.
> 
> Comments and kudos sustain me so I can keep bringing you new stuff.


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